


Converge

by peridoll



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Human
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 16:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15247056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peridoll/pseuds/peridoll
Summary: Peridot hears voices even in the silence, Pearl fights with loss and her inner demons, and Jasper faces cold, lonely nights. Their lives are drastically different, but something long forgotten draws them together down a converging path. Canon-Connected Human AU.





	Converge

**Author's Note:**

> This fic idea has been on my mind for more than a year. I wrote about half of it back in February, dropped it, thought I was done with it, but suddenly I felt the urge to write again a couple nights ago. I haven't written since February, and before that I hadn't written for about a year and a half or so, so this may be a little rusty. But I figured, "hey, Peri, just go for it! What do you have to lose?!" The recent SU bomb has me re-energized, maybe? Anyway- enjoy my brain child, and stick around for the next two chapters! -Peri

Peridot awoke to a hushed voice whispering in her ear, incomprehensible words that always seemed to slip away before she could catch them. It was almost her stop. Everyone else had already gotten off the bus. It was only her, a teenage boy, and the bus driver. Her over-the-ear headphones blared music, surely loud enough for others to hear. Luckily, the boy also had headphones, so she could rest easy about causing a disturbance. 

Like sneaky creatures, the whispers always snaked themselves throughout the lyrics of songs, in between eavesdropped conversations while crossing the street, muttered under some newscaster’s breath. They weren’t real - they couldn’t be - and Peridot always brushed them off as exhaustion. Sleep deprivation. An overworked mind. Anything to keep her from trying to decode the meaning of them. 

It started off as just syllables, fragments of words here and there, like a skipping CD player.  _ Suffering  _ and  _ shatter  _ and  _ doomed _ . Things that were easy to brush off. She was just stressed. But lately the situation had escalated. Words coming through at every commercial break, skittering across her laptop screen accompanied by crackled voices, even in the silence of the pallid office cubicle. She always held her trusty notebook nearby, tracking each word with scribbled handwriting.

She stepped off the bus, and stood motionless beneath the stop sign as it drove off. Her fingers felt numb, even bundled in a pair of wool gloves. The weight of the dark bags under her eyes was almost too much to handle. Too heavy. She rolled her shoulders, sucked in a deep breath of lung-piercing winter air, and set off down the snow blanketed sidewalk. 

Anxiety. That’s all it is. That’s why it was all negative words. Sure, she had suffered with the likes of depression in high school, but those days were long behind her. She had a stable job, a cozy apartment, and…

- _ trapped! _

Startled, Peridot ripped her headphones off and let them hang around her neck instead. Another full word, so crisp and clear, as if someone had cupped their hands over her ear and spoke directly to her. Heart pounding in her ribcage, she hurried up, boots leaving drag marks as she jogged the rest of the way to her apartment building. 

Once inside the constantly stuffy stairwell of the building, Peridot took a moment to catch her breath. A draft blew past the back of her neck, like caressing fingertips. She shivered.

She was on the third floor, had the whole roomy attic space to herself. It was an old building that had gotten a modern update, but the structure still creaked and moaned, especially during the wintertime. It struggled with the excruciating New England freeze, as did the tenant. The cold always made her joints sore and her muscles tight. Nothing a hot bath couldn’t fix, certainly.

“Come on,” Peridot mumbled to herself in disappointment, stripping off her winter coat, scarf, and other necessities, “You sound like you’re 50. You’re only 22, chill out.”

After making a quick and sloppy turkey sandwich on a fresh ciabatta roll and tossing her dirty work clothes into the hamper, Peridot sunk deep into her vintage clawfoot tub, sighing as the heat seeped into her sore bones. Sandwich in one hand and phone in the other, she played a dangerous game of Don’t Dropsies as she scrolled mindlessly through her Facebook feed, legs stretched out and feet kicked up onto the edge of the tub.

It was only spitting tiny snowflakes when she had gotten home, but now wind howled and buffeted against the walls of the building. Peridot glanced towards the frosted glass window beside the tub. Something had caught her attention; a dark shadow creeping across the thick glass. She watched, wide eyed and scrambling to sit up straight, as the shadow spread into five individual finger shapes, all separate from each other. She blinked, and they vanished.

Placing her phone and sandwich down safely on a towel just below her on the tile floor, Peridot wiped a hand down her face, rubbed at her dreary eyes, then dunked her bleach blonde hair under the water. ‘ _ Haha, no more horror movies at 11 PM, I guess,’  _ she joked with herself, but it didn’t make the twist in her stomach disappear. 

Soon the water cooled, and her hands had turned to prunes, so Peridot begrudgingly heaved herself out of the tub and towel dried herself off, humming to the empty air. She stopped to wipe off the steamed up mirror and inspect the growing dark roots of her hair before wildly flipping her head upside down and tying it up in a perfect towel wrap. ‘ _ What a disaster, I need a redye…’ _

The rest of her nightly routine was a dull blur. The same monotonous things, in the same order, at pretty much the same time. It felt robotic at this point, how she got dressed and hung up the towel and brushed her teeth. She cleaned the day’s dishes, drank a glass of 1% milk, took her vitamins, locked the door… And suddenly found herself standing in the corner of her bedroom with a notebook and green pen in hand. 

She snapped out of her daze, stumbling to the side and catching herself on the wall. The notebook and pen dropped from her shaky hands, and she sucked in shallow, choked gasps of air. Green ink stained her hands, and now ran from the pen and onto the white fuzzy rug. 

The notebook, the one she had been using to write her grocery lists and the whispered words that stalked her everywhere, had landed face down. It had been in her work bag, which she had hung in the living room in the closet with her jacket and scarf. She couldn’t remember ever going back to the closet. The last thing she had done was slide the door’s lock into place. She was headed to her bedroom, couldn’t recall veering off or getting distracted.

Distressed and drenched in sweat, Peridot dropped to her knees in front of the inky mess. The pen had been snapped perfectly in half, but the ink didn’t seem normal. It felt like thick goop on her fingers, and she smeared it off on her clean pajama pants before grabbing the notebook and slowly, fearfully, still trying to catch her breath, turned it around.

In big, scratchy letters, in her own handwriting, were the words  **LOG DATE 5 3 9, DO NOT FORGET** . Underneath that, scribbled frantically -   _ Find them. They’re doomed. Don’t let them down. Don’t fail them. They need you. _

Peridot yelped in terror as three loud bangs sounded from her bedroom window, and, flung the notebook onto the floor once again. She raced to close the blinds, flick the light switch off, and vaulted into bed, hiding herself under three blankets. She trembled, squeezing her eyes shut and covering her ears with the palms of her hands. “It’s just the wind, it’s just the wind, it’s just the wind,” she chanted to herself, over and over and over until she finally drifted off, long forgetting about the shadow fingers in the bathroom, the green pen, the notebook, or the banging at the window. Forgetting about it all.

 

* * *

 

“So,” the clatter of the clipboard hitting the countertop beside her jolted Peridot from her daydreaming, her eyes snapped to the doctor who now stood at attention in front of her. “You described an…” a pause, a glance down at the clipboard, “...incident? You felt like you were in a haze, lapses of memory, feeling paranoid and anxious for seemingly no reason?”

Peridot nodded shortly, nervously toying with the fringe on her headscarf. She had told the doctor  _ mostly  _ everything. She purposefully omitted the distinct voices, the eerie note she had left for herself, and the destroyed pen.  _ Mostly  _ everything.

“You said you work a lot? And balance school, as well?” The doctor tucked a strand of sunny blonde hair behind her ear, giving her heavily hairsprayed bun a pat, leaning against the countertop next to the clipboard. She tapped the tip of her pen against the paper, then traced the written responses. “Any family drama? Friend drama? Are you sleeping well?”

Peridot wrung her hands together, some green ink still staining her skin and fingernails despite her incessant scrubbing that morning. “No, no, and…” she shrugged, casting her eyes to the tiled floor. “Sorta, I guess? I’ve been having some trouble. Lots of weird, vivid dreams.”

With an assured click of her pen, the doctor stood up straight once again, crossing her arms over her petite chest. “I suspect that it’s just stress. You haven’t had any other physical symptoms, right?” A quick head shake from Peridot prompted her to continue. “It sounds to me like you’re overworking yourself. We, of course, can check those blood samples to see if it  _ is  _ anything serious, but I think what you need the most is a vacation.” With pursed lips, the doctor spun around to her computer and rapidly typed something into the search bar. “I can recommend you to a therapist, if you’d like-”

“Oh no, that’s fine!” Peridot climbed down from the exam table, the crinkly paper sticking to the back of her legs. “I appreciate that, but I don’t need it. You know, I think you’re right. This is all just in my head.” Feeling dejected and silly, Peridot grabbed her fleece jacket from the chair, prepared to bolt out of the terrible office smelling building as soon as possible. 

“Alright, alright, I can’t convince you otherwise.” With a cheeky half-smile that sent a sinister shiver down Peridot’s spine, the doctor collected the clipboard and a couple other sheets of paper into her arms, and moved to open the heavy wooden door for her patient. “Just come in again if your symptoms don’t go away. You should get your blood test results in the mail in about a week. Any questions, you know our number.” 

“Got it, I’ll try to take care of myself. Drink water, eat vegetables, yadda yadda yadda…” With a stiff chuckle, Peridot went to duck out of the office, but as her boot stepped onto the carpet of the hallway, she froze.

 

“ _ Peridot, you’re a traitor, and you will pay.” _

 

Like electricity sparking in her joints, Peridot spun around, face scrunched in horror. “What…?”

 

The doctor seemed unfazed, gazing back with hazel, almost yellow, eyes. “Huh? All I said was have a nice day.” She snorted, giving Peridot a pat on the shoulder. “Go rest, that’s all you need.”

Peridot was already speeding for the door, leaving pleasantries far behind her as she broke into a sprint in the parking lot. The sun was shining, leaving dangerous puddles of melted snow across the asphalt, and she skidded to a stop once she hit the outermost sidewalk. Pulse beating fast and blood running hot, she didn’t dare look back. She could feel a looming presence just behind her, like something massive, overpowering, floating in the sky towards her. The sound of grating metal, joints of a mobile aircraft, scraped against her ears. Luckily, the bus stop was right beside her, so she crouched, digging her headphones out of her compact, green and black day pack. She jammed the plug into the headphone jack on her phone, opened Spotify, and blasted the first song her fingers could touch. Squeezing her eyes closed and breathing deeply, soon the looming sensation faded. She popped one eye open, tilting her head back ever so slightly to a perfectly blue sky. She cursed herself out for being so ridiculous, kicking an unsuspecting rock into the street.  _ ‘You’re being so stupid. What, do you think you’re gonna get abducted by aliens or something? C’mon, grow up…’  _

It didn’t take long for the bus to arrive, wheezing out dark plumes of smoke from the exhaust pipes and puttering along like a 90 year old man. ‘ _ No wonder this thing is always 15 minutes late, it’s probably from the 1980s or something.’  _ Peridot snickered to herself as she boarded the bus, swiping her monthly pass before finding a seat near the back. It was packed, oddly so for a Thursday afternoon. Luckily there were a few empty seats, and after scouring, she decided to sit beside a mom and her bundled up baby. It was that, a guy who smelled sickeningly like tobacco, or a punk looking woman wearing a leather jacket. She’d pick the baby anytime.

Moving one side of her headphones from an ear, Peridot tilted her head to the side to get a better look at the sleeping baby. “Aww, he’s so cute,” she cooed, figuring some small talk would get her mind off of stress.

The woman glanced up through a mess of dyed pink hair, surprised, as if she didn’t know Peridot had sat beside her, and smiled. “Thanks, he is a little button, isn’t he?” She bounced him gently in her arms, bringing him closer to plant a flurry of kisses on his cheeks. “His name is Steven.”

“Steven, huh? That’s cute, he totally looks like a Steven.” That seemed to elicit a small giggle from the mom, who lowered the baby back into full view. 

“Do you have any kids? Oh- who am I kidding, you look like you’re about 15!”

“22, but close enough, I guess.” Feeling timid, Peridot adjusted the front of her scarf, shoving a freed piece of hair back underneath. “Nah, I don’t think I’ll have kids. I mean- they’re cute and all, but I don’t think I’m mother material.” The baby stirred, tiny hands wiggling out from his pink blanket cocoon, clenching and unclenching. As if by instinct, the mom offered a finger for him to hold, which he took in a heartbeat, drawing it nearer to his mouth.

“Oh, nonsense, sweetie,” she reassured, pulling her finger away from the baby. He started to whimper, so she reached into the side pocket of her bag and pulled out a binkie, which she popped into his mouth with practiced ease. “I think anyone can be a parent, as long as they have the heart and the guts. I’m sure you have plenty of both.” Her voice dripped with honey, so sweet and addicting to listen to, honestly. Peridot found herself lulled into a peace she hadn’t experienced since her weird daydreams and haunting messages started.

 

The bus jerked, slowing to a stop.

 

“Oh- looks like we’re here!” The mother stood, and Peridot resisted the urge to beg her to stay, to get off at the next stop, to keep talking to her. She gathered her bag, tightened her grip on Steven, and stood, slipping past her seatmate.

 

The world jerked, slowing to a stop.

 

Peridot suddenly felt enveloped in warmth, the scent of roses filling her nostrils.

 

“ _ Peridot _ .” She felt a soft hand brush her cheek, and followed it upwards. The mother’s kind, round face peered down at her, thick, curly hair obscuring most of her eyes. “ _ Thank you for taking care of him. I know he’s in good hands. _ ” She felt a trickle, a single tear streaking down her cheek.

 

The moment was over before it began. Or it had never happened. Before she knew it, the mother was walking down the street in the other direction, the bus roared to life again, and she was alone. It  _ couldn’t  _ have happened, she told herself. A stranger wouldn’t say something so strange and delusional… 

She suddenly grew acutely aware of a pair of eyes burning holes into the back of her head. That looming sensation returned, the illusion of fingers creeping up her back, tickling her spine. ‘ _ Maybe I  _ am  _ crazy. Maybe I do need that therapist. _ ’ She readjusted her headphones squarely on her ears, once again fruitlessly drowning out everything around her. The feeling of being watched persisted.

After what seemed like the longest bus ride of her life, Peridot at last reached her stop, and hopped up from her seat, elbowing her way through the standing crowd to get to the opening door as quickly as possible. In her scramble, someone bumped into her with enough force to knock her glasses off, and she swore under her breath, glaring at the guy as she exited beside him. She leaped off of the bus stairs, bending down to pick up the glasses from the snowbank. It had grown darker, clouds dense with another storm. Peridot struggled to wipe off her lenses, smudging and smearing droplets around, as she straightened out-

 

“Peridot.” A presence had snuck up behind her, and held out a blurry hand to her. Panicked, as too many people had said her name unannounced in that one day, Peridot shoved her glasses crookedly back onto her face to see. It was the woman in the leather jacket, and she towered over Peridot by what seemed like miles. 

“Why were you staring at me on the bus, you creep?” Peridot snapped defensively, fixing her glasses and wiping off the remaining snow with the back of her gloved hand. “And how the fuck do you know my name?”

A look of rejection flashed in the woman’s amber colored eyes, and she withdrew the extended hand. Dark, thick yet pampered eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, and Peridot got a good look at her face. A patchwork of light skin on darker skin, following the curve of her high set cheekbones, the slant of her nose, and one stand-alone patch on her chin. Like stripes, and from the looks of it, that pattern followed through down to her hands.

 

The bus sped away, leaving them standing on the edge of the sidewalk in a puff of suffocating smoke.

 

It felt like someone had reached deep into Peridot’s lungs, grabbed a fistful of air, and ripped it straight from her. A chilling breeze swept through her unzipped jacket, pinpricks of goosebumps crawling up her arms. When she spoke, it came out in a quiet mewl.

 

“Jasper.”


End file.
